Plague: Moss and John

By Jeremiah Donaldson

An unseen traveler lurked within flight 308 to Paris, France. A traveler that infected everyone aboard and raced across the world while those in charge of its containment denied the real danger. Few escaped the carnage, fewer left any record. Moss Valley was one of them.

Contains:
Plague, John's Story, and Escape

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeremiah Donaldson
• Release date: Jan 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463833322

Jeremiah Donaldson

Jeremiah Donaldson is a science fiction/horror writer, editor, game designer, free thinker, corporate slave, and overly blunt commentator that grew up in rural Kentucky and lived in Florida for 13 years before moving back in 2008.When he's not working...whatever, he always works, let's start that over. When he's not playing his part as a cog in the machine for the specified number of hours per week, or doing housework, or planting fruit trees in preparation for the climatic meltdown we're forcing upon the planet, he strings together words for peoples' enjoyment.

Book preview

Day 9, Tuesday, December 8, 20--

THEY’RE going to kill us all, I thought, watching the city of Tampa burn across the water. The low clouds reflected the fires set by irrational, crazed people who roamed the streets, taking their anger and frustration out on anything they came across. I’m glad not to be on the streets, sitting on the boat is better than whatever hell is out there.

I can’t help but think that I’ve got ahead of myself.

Things weren’t like this a few days ago. Now, anyone who took even a casual glance at the world would believe that humanity had reached the end, or maybe everyone wished the end would arrive so that the horror would cease. Either way, things don’t look good for anyone who survived the initial carnage. This wasn’t how things were suppose to turn out. We got cheated by a bug that shouldn’t have been. A freak of nature turned the world on its head with the ease someone picked up a sheet of paper.

I've gotten ahead of myself. What could be the last written record of this should contain the whole story, not half-mad rumblings I decided to put down once it dawned on me that things weren’t going back the way they were.

I’d watched the situation in the city disintegrate for days. Plenty of people are left to cause trouble and more would flock south from their powerless, northern cities when winter got here. I don’t know how the electricity held up elsewhere, but Tampa had been dark for more than a day without a sign anyone who could fix it cared to. Most people had left the city if they could. Those who'd stayed roamed the streets or barricaded themselves in their homes.

The end of November. So long ago, yet only yesterday. November. It wasn't the best time of my life, but not the worst. Still, I’d rather relive that one month over and over instead of write this account by candle and riot light.

Day 1, Monday, November 30, 20--

ON one of the last days things made sense, I smacked the alarm clock off at seven in the morning, showered, brushed, and ate an energy bar. I watched some news, but there was nothing special on. Some teacher had gone nuts and led the police on a four-hour joy ride. They'd found half a kilo of coke in her car. She probably won't teach again unless it's in prison. As if it was news. Teachers screwed the kids, so they may as well peddle them drugs, too.

At a quarter till eight, I locked the apartment door and began the trek to work. It started at half past eight and ended at six. Easy money, easy work.

The 'Money Cow' cash advance office had little business on Mondays. Even when not, how hard was it to cash checks, write money orders, advance money, and answer stupid questions? Not hard, that's for sure. I doubt I could've done less without being a security guard, and I had no need to waste money on gas when work lay five blocks away. Not that I didn’t have a car, but it normally sat in the parking lot, collecting dust. The walk got me going in the morning and was the only exercise I ever had.

The first day of my last week of work was somewhat standard. Sometimes, I wished someone would rob us.

Me and my office clerk, an intense night school student by the name of Boose, pronounced Booze, Harrison, took turns smoking in the alley between our building and the neighboring office complex. Otherwise, he sat with his nose buried in a school book while I perched on a stool in front of the computer, browsing the net and waiting for the next customer. When government checks showed up, the door barely closed as everyone rushed to pay their loans and borrow money back, or to cash their check because no bank would have them. Only Marcus Smith's, our district manager, daily stop to make sure we had cash broke the monotony.

I ticked off the closing list in my head as I locked the front door at a few minutes after six. Nothing had been left unfinished.

Swing by if you don’t have school, I said. He was one of the few people I hung out with and currently my only friend that didn’t have an evening job.

Not today. Boose shouldered his backpack. I have a big test tonight. Probably will tomorrow.

That works. Have a good one.

It was our standard end of the day conversation. The simple things are what I miss the most.

* * *

MY first stop was at the bank to throw the deposit in the steel box built into the brick wall. Then I dodged a car, whose driver never slowed, as I ran across the street. I wagged a middle finger in the air after him as he sped away. Once on the sidewalk, I turned down an alley to the next street. A Family-owned grocery store was at the other end. I'd almost forgotten that I had nothing to eat.

I got back to the apartment just before seven and sighed with relief when I kicked my shoes off and set the bags on the kitchen counter.

The answering machine flashed a '1', so I poked the play button to listen while I opened a frozen pizza and turned on the oven. The message added to the dull Monday. A salesman rattled off his pitch for 30 seconds before the machine decided that his time was up and cut him off.

The oven needed time to preheat, and I relieved myself before throwing the pizza into it on a piece of foil. I set the microwave timer for 10 minutes and hoped the directions were right this time. Last time they were off by a lot. My apartment had smelled of burnt cheese for three days because I'd thought I had time for a shower while it cooked. At least it'd tasted different than the package, although not better.

I cleaned the few dishes from the day before while dinner cooked. There weren't many dishes when you lived alone. One plate, a glass, and fork. I wiped everything down with a rag, grabbed the newly washed glass, and poured myself the last cold soda from the refrigerator.

I carried my drink to the coffee table in the living room while I waited on the pizza to finish. The television was tuned to the last news channel I'd watched. A ding from the microwave told me that my dinner was done or burnt as the picture came into view.

Done, I seen, and lifted the pizza from the oven to the stove top by the foil underneath it. Foil was the most convenient thing in the world. I loved not having to dirty more dishes than necessary, and a mitt wasn’t needed to take it out of the oven. I went to the couch with the cut pizza on my damp plate.

I would've set out to enjoy that night more if I'd known more at that time. Instead, I apathetically watched the reporter speak about an Ebola outbreak in the Congo and shoved food in my mouth. I didn't really pay attention to it that first night, after all, bad things happen and people die all the time.

Day 2, Tuesday, December 1, 20--

IF a person woke on the first day of the end of civilization and didn't notice anything wrong, would they know that the end was on the way? I didn't. Even if I did, would I've believed?

The day started with me running late, because I'd stayed up playing games and watching movies, but normal otherwise. I showered and ran out the door with dripping hair and less than 30 minutes to get to work.

Boose was in a foul mood when he arrived a few minutes after me. It must have been the first time I'd seen him angry. He had a good reason.

You wouldn't believe what happened, he said when he noticed my look. Some jackass mud kicker, mud kicker was Boose's name for anyone who drove a truck and listened to country music, pulled out in front of me this morning, and I had to jump a curb to keep from hitting him and popped a tire. Then he pulled over and wanted to fight because I'd flipped him off, but a cop was two cars behind us. Finally, after the cop threatened the guy with mace, things calmed enough for us to give statements. I had the satisfaction of him getting a ticket for reckless driving. Of course, the donut spare is on my car. Once it was all out, Boose relaxed a bit and some of the redness faded from his face.

Sounded like you had fun. Now, you know why I walk to work, I said, smiling a little. Ride the bus and you can bypass all that bull.

That'd just mean different stupid people, Boose said. And I couldn't listen to the stereo that cost me an arm and a leg.

Got a point there, I said.

We lit our last cigarettes before we opened for business.

The remainder of the day was stress free. We didn't have any irritating customers or annoying people that wanted us to do something that we couldn't. It was a peaceful stint at work, and I didn't have to walk home since Boose came over to hangout. Never hurt my feelings to save my soles for free.

* * *

THE answering machine had a message from my ex-girlfriend to ruin an otherwise fine day. I didn't have anything to say to her and couldn't think of anything beyond the usual drivel that she could say to me, so I erased the message without listening to it.

You want something to drink? I said, opening the refrigerator. It was always well stocked, if not with food.

Of course, no class tonight, Boose said. He settled on the floor and rummaged through the backpack that never left his side.

I sat a bottle on the coffee table next to the brass pipe, kicked my shoes off to the side, and settled down on the couch.

You want to pass on the Brass Ass today? I have papers, unless it's rank and won't matter.

Boose grinned. This stuff is so harsh you won't know if the weed or pipe has made you cough a lung up.

I clicked on the television and flipped to the comedy channel, which was the only thing watchable while high.

The usual, then, I said. No need to waste a good paper.

I shoved a hand between the couch cushions to the cut in the back where my stash was hid. I unrolled the bag with a practiced flip of the wrist, then dropped a bud on the table for Boose to break apart.

Maybe our horrible weed and your shitty pipe will turn out nice tonight, I said.

We could get lucky.

I took a swallow of the cold beer before I put a DVD in the player. There was nothing on the tube. I often wondered why I kept the cable hooked up.

And so the evening passed. We smoked, we drank, we laughed, and my friend Tom called, but we were too drunk to go out on the town. Boose stood at half past midnight to sway to the garbage with his last empty bottle.

You're walking like a sailor on shore leave, I said.

I feel like a sailor on shore leave. Boose stumbled a couple steps. I'll be fine when my butt is in the car.

I stood, staggered, and steadied myself with the couch arm. See you in a couple days, don't get in trouble without me.

Have a good day off. Boose waved a floppy salute, laughed, and zigzagged down the hall to the elevators.

I turned the television to one of the 24-hour news channels to listen while I cleaned up from the fun. Vaguely, I heard the reporter say that the Ebola outbreak had spread, and that fear ran rampant that it'd spread farther before it burnt itself out. She said a lot more, something about France, but the words didn't register on my clouded mind.

Day 3, Wednesday, December 2, 20--

I hated to be woke up by the phone, especially on a day off. Half awake, I rolled out of bed and stumbled through the apartment, rubbing my forehead. I hoped it would ease my headache and knew it wouldn't. I forgot to check the caller ID. Sometimes you know right away that it'll be an off day.

Hello, I murmured.

Moss! Where the hell are you? I've tried to reach you all morning, not to mention yesterday.

It was my former better half, Amy.

What's so important that you wake me up this early? I rubbed my eyes. Four messages were on the machine. She must have called all morning. You’re not going to stalk me like your last boyfriend, are you?

Christ, turn on the fucking news, she said.

I found the remote. Yeah, whatever, you're pissing on my day, this had better be good.

It is.

A female reporter stood in front of planes at the airport. The dull gray of the aircraft paint contrasted harshly with the red border that said 'Breaking News'.

Normally, you couldn't hear me here, the reporter said, "but you can this morning, and that's bad news for the airline industry.

As of this morning, all international flights have been canceled due to the Ebola outbreak threatening international travel. A young boy, Jon Louis, who arrived in France yesterday, has shown symptoms after flying from Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of the Congo on France flight 308. The boy had been in the DRC with his parents who'd gone there two months ago to study endangered monkey populations. His parents have also fell ill, prompting the world’s airlines to cease operations until the situation has been contained. More than one hundred who entered France on the same flight are unaccounted for at this time. It is feared that many have moved on to other countries. Authorities are trying to contact each passenger, but have only tracked down a handful of them.

The camera switched to a seated reporter who talked about rising coastal waters.

I sighed. You got me up for this?

Keep watching. They said that some of the passengers may have taken flights to the USA, including Tampa. Better keep an eye on things since you aren't far from the airport. You can go back to sleep. Goodbye. Amy hung up.

I let the phone drop to the floor and flopped down on the couch. I wondered if this was how Amy had started stalking her last ex as I feel asleep.

* * *

I turned on the news when I woke up. The situation had gotten worse in the hour since Amy's call. Not only were international fights canceled, but so were state bound flights. They'd determined that 30 passengers from the France flight had made it to the states. Two entered the country through the airport here in Tampa and three more in Miami. The others were spread all over the country between New York and Los Angeles. The government searched for them.

I didn't fly, so there wasn't a reason for me to concern myself with planes that weren't allowed to leave the ground. None of it had anything to do with me. I climbed into the shower.

The rest of my day was spent doing things I didn't have time for otherwise. I restocked the cupboards, did laundry, vacuumed the carpet, scrubbed up beer stains, visited the bank, refrained from killing someone in the post office, and picked up Chinese for dinner.

Finally, I sat down and enjoyed the day once the largest part of it'd passed. I purposely avoided the news for the rest of the evening, thinking it couldn't get worse.

Day 4, Thursday, December 3, 20--

THE first day of hell started off slow. It was impossible to know that panic would march across the country in an unstoppable storm by the end of that day. Maybe it's best some things blind side us. If we knew what came, would we face it or curl up and wilt away?

The first sign of an abnormal day was when I arrived at work and found Boose there before me. He'd never beat me to work.

This is a first, I said.

I wanted to get here and see what the situation was.

Situation? It's another day at the office.

You don't know? Boose raised one eyebrow.

Apparently not. Do we have a surprise audit or something?

I wish that was it. Take a look. Boose dug in his backpack for a second. Sitting back up, he held out a mini TV that had an one inch screen. It was one of the many gadgets he carried with him that served little or no purpose.

I took it from him and flicked the on/off switch.

Make sure you're on channel nine, Boose said.

I nodded and watched the picture.

...what you see is the mass burning of bodies by the DRC government in an attempt to rid themselves of the Ebola virus ravaging the country. A video clip played that showed something burning with clouds of black smoke swirling in the wind. A hard gust pushed the flames back to reveal arms sticking out of a pile of bodies.

No one knows why this outbreak is so deadly, but teams from the Center of Disease Control in Atlanta and the World Health Organization have arrived to determine the depth of the problem. The outbreak has claimed 957 lives in four days and an estimated 3000 are sick.

The video clip switched to a picture of a man dressed in a lab coat. Dr. Joel DuLou is the first medical professional to fall sick, and his condition has deteriorated rapidly. There is fear that this strain is spreading by an unknown route. One French doctor insists that it has mutated to an airborne form, but officials from CDC have assured us it hasn't. This has been...

I flicked the power switch. That's interesting, I said. But we don't have anything to worry about.

They'd said there was an unconfirmed case in Tampa. They should have an update soon.

I sighed and shrugged. Everyone is freaking out about nothing. Two weeks from now, no one will remember what all the uproar was about.

I hope you're right.

How long will the batteries last on this thing?

Not long, a couple hours at best.

We'll check on things later.

Boose nodded.

* * *

I don't know if it was the bad news or one of those rare days, but things were insane even for the third of the month. We were hit with a barrage of new and old customers. All of them had the same thing to talk about. We didn't have to check the news.

People who'd been in contact with passengers from the France flight were in isolation across the country and authorities looked for others. Everyone spoke with a certain unease in their voice, and I could see panic in their eyes. Leave it to the media to cause a mess of things. A few knew nothing, but not many, and they found out from other customers as they waited in line. It didn't take long for bad news to spread among the herd.

Lunch time finally arrived. We normally took turns, but we waited until the place was empty and slapped a 'Gone to lunch' sign on the door. We hid in the back room to get the latest news while we smoked our lunch and got a few minutes of peace.

"...that's the current status on airline flights. We've received word that the second Tampa passenger was found in an Orlando hotel. The man, David Leckworth, arrived at Tampa International Airport on December 1, returning from a hunting trip that'd taken him to the DRC and home through France. It's believed that he was headed home in Daytona beach when he stopped in Orlando. He rented the room for two nights, mentioning to the clerk that he had the flu and didn't want disturbed. That was the last time anyone seen him alive. The room remained locked until the body was discovered. All residents and employees of the hotel have been quarantined inside the building.

The other passenger, Alabar Robins in Tampa General Hospital, has had his condition lowed to critical. He became sick yesterday and turned himself in to authorities. Alabar had returned to the country after he visited family members. The reporter shuffled some papers. We've gotten word that two in France have died from the virus, and a German passenger from the same flight is hospitalized. We'll have more information later. The scene cut to a Viagra commercial.

That's some shit, Boose said, stubbing his cigarette out in our makeshift, foil ashtray.

I nodded. No doubt, but these things only last as long as it takes to isolate those infected.

You're right, but it explains why we're busy. A lot of people are worried.

They're like animals, spook them and they run far enough not to see the original problem.

Boose nodded toward the TV. Looks like cool weather coming.

I looked in time to see the animation of an advancing cold front. Good, I've waited all year for winter. Let's smoke another before we open for business.

We stared at the walls and puffed for 10 minutes, waiting for more news on the outbreak, but the producers had decided the virus had taken up enough time for now.

* * *

THE rest of the day was nonstop. The four people at the door after lunch were the precursor. Some wanted money to leave town, some to stock up before the mad rush on food that'd happen sooner or later, others wanted cash in their pockets in case the ATMs went down, but all talked about the same thing. Many repeated illogical, elaborate theories.

They let it over here, you know? One new customer said. He was a middle-aged man dressed in a faded jean jacket and a hat that proclaimed 'They're Coming'. He continued before I could respond. "There are systems in place to prevent bugs from getting from one country to another and they didn't work. You know why? Because those dirty French bastards knew this would happen and our